[Carl I]

I looked at it again. The white ceiling. The odour was as strong as the sterile room that clung to the memory.

"Count!" I even still hear his voice, whipping loudly and unforgivingly.

I shuddered, helpless, and cringed. "1 ... 2... 3 ..." I even repeated it when I was about to run.

If it was still sunny out there, people might have started giving me strange looks and becoming the centre of attention.

I guess that's the reason why I chose to visit at night, and also probably hoped that at any time she'd let her guard down.

Being called a visitor also feels strange, and too familiar. On the other hand, the thought of being with her makes me sick to my stomach.

This was a relationship that came about because of a strange compulsion. At that time I had no choice.

I was just a child whose childhood was deprived, chained, and devastated by a se

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